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tempusfrangit) wrote2014-05-03 08:47 pm
tempusfrangit) wrote2014-05-03 08:47 pm
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Rose Under Fire: Roza+ Rosie/George
She cannot sleep; it is too quiet, her bed is too big and she is too cold. Everything hurts and she is so lonely, she doesn't know she's moving until she feels her feet brush against cool wood and her crutches scrape across the floor. Her footsteps shuffle, trudging in the room. Fingertips brushing against Joe's head until she's at the side of their bed.
She nudges George with her knee, falling almost over him until he catches her in his arms and tucks her safely into his bed and rolls out under her onto the floor like always. He lands with a soft oof and she hears him swearing. Rosie presses against her side, tucking her in until she feels safe and sound. Until her skin is warm and the ghosts of all those she left behind fades away.
Neither of them say anything at the quiet, unforgiving sobs. Rosie just tucks her beneath her head, George reaches up and brushes her back with kind fingers. And she can put the ghosts to rest for the night.
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Her hands clench around the patch, staring hard out to the sea. He wore his uniform, respectful, and he manages to pull off his boots before swinging his legs over to join her ruined legs. He drapes his jacket over her shoulders and she pulls it round her. The uniform doesn't make her flinch any more maybe because it's American, but more because it's Rosie's George and Rosie has made her trust him, made her like him.
She mutters something in Polish at him, he's quick to respond in Portuguese before she's making him repeat it over and over again. Her hands clenched tight around the patch, squeezing it in his hand. By the time Rosie is done, he's taught her all the swear words. It's easier to focus on that, the way the words don't fumble, don't trip in her mouth until she swears with more ease than he does. Rosie will kill him.
His hands brush her shoulders again but she doesn't flinch or move, just steels herself as he nods. Rosie, silhouetted in the fading sunlight, behind her.
"It's okay Roza, you can let go now. Rosie's here, she can take it." George murmurs, covering her hand as Rosie covers it too and the pair take the patch from her. Karolina, Karolina, Karolina. This place gives you things, for Rosie it gave her George and Luz and for Roza it gave her- it gave her Karolina. "C'mon doll, best foot forward."
She laughs, hard and sharp, elbowing George in the side and swearing at him in a collection of languages before she let's go of it. Best foot forward.
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My challenge is that you should write something nice. Write me the first time Roza meets baby Joe. It's not going to be an easy delivery but Rosie'll be fine. He'll be born in February or March.
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He is so small.
"Is he okay?" Rosie murmurs sleepily, turning towards her. She's flushed, tired but she is okay and that makes Roza... kinder. She was perhaps a little unfair to George during the delivery (she had after all berated him in Polish and Russian before she'd been unceremoniously turfed out.)
"He is perfect," Roza murmurs. Smiling a little as Rosie turned, she watched as her friend reached out to touch him. She cradled him closer, she can't hand her back to Rosie until George comes and takes him. She doesn't trust not to stumble with him, she doesn't trust herself to stand up. She wants to protect him with all of her. "Don't tell him, tell the world Rosie but don't tell him. Not ever. Not- he's perfect. He's perfect."
She kisses his forehead, murmuring 'Pucek' to him and kissing him lightly again until George comes back and swears his son is a hit with the ladies already and has to run before Roza jabs him with her crutches. He's happy, healthy, he is safe and loved. He is perfect. She wants him to stay that way forever.
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A perfect hello to Joseph Jack Luz :D
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"Do I look okay?" Rosie asks, hands smoothing out the dress over the small bump. Not many would notice but Roza does, she knows every inch of Rosie's skin. She knows what's coming in a few months time. "Roza?"
"You look beautiful, stop ruining the line of that dress. It is perfect," Roza replied. She would know, she had hand-sewn the dress herself. Rosie was good but Roza had spent years working with her hands. She knew how to make a simple, beautiful dress out of an old, loved parachute.
"Do you really think so? Oh Roza, not another." Rosie said, Roza pouring Rosie a glass of juice and offering it to her before she takes a lion's share of the champagne. One for her, one for Rosie, one for the baby. "How do you expect to walk me down the aisle if you're drunk."
"I'm not walking you down the aisle, your Captain is." Roza said, a small twist of a smile lingering on her lips as she paused, mid sip. She didn't want to ruin their day, she didn't want to ruin their happiness with her own anger, bitterness, hurt. She selfishly didn't want people to stare. "After he escorts me down it."
Rosie looked at Roza, all wide eyes and curiosity. Cheeks flushed like she hadn't expected that. There wasn't anything to expect, not really. It wasn't like that. It was just the idea of him really. The idea of Bucky Barnes... he was her very own Nick Story.
"Ladies," A voice called out, mid-western twang she had come to know. She held out her hand, letting Bucky help her up before she took her crutches. Someone (George she suspected) had tied ribbon and flowers around it. Roza pulled them off in a stubborn move, waving Rosie over.
"Tell the world, tell the world you love him." Roza said with a smile, adding the flowers into Rosie's hair before pressing an air kiss to her cheek. She smiled, pressing her hand against Bucky's arm before tossing Rosie a wink over her shoulder.
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She burrows back in the bed, closing her eye as she tries to get back to sleep without them both. She breathes in, breathes out and hates the quietness, stillness of the room. She scowls, muttering in Polish under her breath as she lies alone in their bed. She struggles to sit up, pulling her legs down before she shuffles out of bed. Holding onto the door as she dresses in the dark.
When she emerges, she scowls at them both hair a fluffy mess of caramel coloured wisps before George pulls out a chair like a gentleman. Exaggerated bow that makes her hit him in the ribs, she takes his hand though and the blanket he brings them all.
"You should go back to bed, I'm sorry. I just-" Rosie whispers, pulling the blanket over them both as George takes his seat back beside Rosie. Roza looks contemptuously at Rosie. "Tea?
"Scotch?" George replies before Roza smiles darkly. Rosie drinks tea, George too but Roza needs the harshness of the alcohol burning her throat. "See, I knew there was a reason you liked me doll."
"You do not snore, it is hard to hate a man who does not snore." Roza muttered, taking the flask from George before adding with a small smirk. "Rosie snores like a trooper."
"Oh I do not!"
They watch the dawn together, Rosie falling asleep with her head resting in George's lap and Roza falling asleep with her head on his shoulder, hand on Rosie's side.
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I love it I love it.
Every so often, Rosie makes it very clear that there are Things going on and Roza needs to give them a little time :b
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It had been scalding at first, turning her skin an angry shade of red before fading in time. Everything felt like it faded in time but still underneath the surface she was angry and hurt and-
She extended her head out of the water a little. The water drowns the sound out; Rosie breathless, George moaning until she's almost asleep in the water. It isn't until there are strong arms pushing beneath her armpits, pulling her sharply up that she moves in an angry, annoyed flail.
"Jesus fucking christ woman stop hitting me- jesus Roza."
She let out an undignified noise, hitting him once and twice almost bursting into tears before Rosie's hands are on her and holding her up and George- she swears at him in all the languages she knows- has left her the hell alone. She's still too skinny, still too scarred and no one will love her, not the way George loves Rosie.
"We were worried- we thought-" Rosie begins and Roza hits her hand away. Jaw set and stubborn, cheeks pinched red in colour and anger as she scowled at Rosie.
"Get. Out." Roza said through gritted teeth. Not looking at Rosie or George until they leave, George slamming the door as Rosie looked back at her upse- she doesn't care what she looks like. She doesn't care. She doesn't need them, she doesn't need their help.
She doesn't come out until the water was cold, yelling through the door for Rosie to come back. She hated this, she hated it.
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):
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Idk. Sad is not what I need today ):
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Yeah - Rosie loves her but a threesome isn't going to happen there
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"Nah, doll think that's a bird." George interrupts before Rosie is shushing him with fingertips against his lips. He smiles against Rosie's neck, drapes an arm around her before nudging Roza making her look up at him. It isn't the fact that he interrupts her, it's the smile. Rosie loves that smile, Roza tolerates it and him. "Go on then."
"Hope is the thing with feathers-
That perches in the soul—
And sings the tune without the words—
And never stops—at all—
And sweetest—in the Gale—is heard—
And sore must be the storm—
That could abash the little Bird
That kept so many warm—
I've heard it in the chillest land—
And on the strangest Sea—
Yet, never, in Extremity,
It asked a crumb—of Me."
It was beautiful and perfect. Twelve short lines, three small verses and yet it made her- hope. She cradled the poetry book to her chest, brushing her hands over words and lines before smiling at Rosie- at George- but most of all at Joe, her tiny little perfect Joe.
"Dobranoc," Roza replied before pressing kisses to Joe's cheek, to Rosie's and even to George's before she heads to her own bed. The world is so small and she is so small in it but she has hope.
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